


Seventy Times 7

by Inurshuh



Category: One Piece
Genre: Consensual Sex, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, NSFW, Smut, Zotash Month 2020, emotionally stunted Tashigi, emotionally stunted Zoro, grandiose use of the word fuck, introspection while banging, no beta we die like old men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inurshuh/pseuds/Inurshuh
Summary: Just here to celebrate Zotash Month 2020! A collection of drabbles for the prompts on the Zorotashi Tumblr.Ch 2, Pt 1: "This fight is different though. Her focus isn’t on him, not really; she might be staring at him but it’s clinical, focusing on his movements rather than actively trying to figure out where he’s going, what he’s about to do next like she was fighting an enemy that wasn’t him, that wasn’t there. Battle challenges on site weren’t new, but he can hear the frustration singing through each parry of her blade, an echo of the anger strumming through her veins. "
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro & Tashigi, Roronoa Zoro/Tashigi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. BOND // CHANGE

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY, so this is my first Zotash month, and of course, I had to contribute something smutty. 
> 
> Definitely not cannon - Post-Punk Hazard/Time-Skip - OOC goodness. Loosely follows Hot and Cold, but can be read separately. Graphic language ahead.
> 
> As always, I don’t own One Piece *bows down to Oda* - Enjoy!

He doesn’t fuckin get how they ended up like this. Pretty sure he fucking hates the slippery, determined,  _ weak _ woman underneath him. Doesn’t understand how she can set him off - how just a look from her gets under his skin and has him wanting to tear her shreds, tear into her flesh and just rip her apart from the inside out. She looked so much like Kuina- he just wanted her to feel the same way he does when he sees her Goddamn  _ face.  _

Doesn’t fucking get why he hasn’t felt like that since Punk hazard,  _ her hair’s different now, and her figure’s fuller.  _ He’s got a bruising grip on her hip, can’t help himself when he kicks her feet wider apart and plants his heels into the ground as he forces another finger inside her. She’s fucking gripping him tight, and he wonders how she’ll feel on his dick. doesn’t even know if they’re going to make it that far. 

Knows they probably will because the way she's fucking keening has him sticking two fingers in her mouth, likes the way she gags just a little when he goes in too far. she's not screaming at him anymore, which is a goddamn blessing but he almost misses the shrill tone of her voice from earlier. likes the way she had yelled at him to quit being a disgusting pirate pig and just fight her. S _ ometimes we fight with swords, sometimes we fight with fists but I’d much rather fight her the way I am now. _

It's always a fight, and the way she's arching her back and pushing her hips back lets him know that she likes this fight too. she's nibbling on his fingertips, laveS the sharp sting with her tongue before pressing teeth back down and fuck the jolt of pain has him hooking his fingers into the side of her mouth and jerking her head back.

She just glares at him,  _ yeah, that's what I’m used to,  _ 'cause this bond of there’s isn't something warm and fuzzy, and the hard-on he has isn't going down anytime soon, not when she's got that glint in her eye that yells "retribution is coming.”

Tashigi doesn’t look like Kuina anymore, not when she’s like this- palms flat against the wall and back arched while he pushes two fingers inside her. He’d never wanted to do anything like this with Kuina- had just been kids when she’d passed. 

Their bond of fighting and running had been running its course since Lougetown, and he’s always so fucking surprised that she doesn’t seem to miss a step when he calls her a copycat, or suggest she’s something less than. Woman’s got more confidence than that, doesn’t care if she’s an echo of someone in his past but fuck, she’s not an echo anymore and he doesn’t know what to make of it anymore. 

“Z-Zoro,  _ come on _ -” and his actual given name coming from the sword nerds lips? That just does something to him. Always Roronoa, sometimes some other shitty adjective but never Zoro. 

“Fuck, who said you could call me that?” and he barely recognizes his own fucking voice before he’s dragging his wet fingers out of her mouth and trailing it down her neck. Sharp pinch to her nipple when she pushes back against his fingers, fighting the pace he’s set- always fucking fighting him. 

He appreciates it at this moment though- likes the way he has to grip her hip and settle her, drags her flush against him, and makes her work to keep her palms flat. Curling his fingers on the next push, he bites her neck as her hair falls out of her half bun and she tosses her head back, panting breaths against his ear. The long strands of her hair were covering his face and she’s clenching against him and fuck- she feels amazing when she’s squeezing him. 

She’s sweaty, button-up clinging to her skin and hair damp, eyes half-lidded as she rolls her head on his shoulder. He thinks he’d like to kiss her, but he just presses his thumb against her clit he slows his fingers down, enjoys the way she’s huffs, frustration tight in her shoulders. Her pants are slid down to her ankles, and he shouldn’t really like it except she looks the best she’s ever looked, outside of pissed off and ready to fight him. 

He’s ran into her a handful of times, but he definitely prefers her like this. She seems almost pliant, all soft and frustrated whines but she’s still trying to thrust her hips back, his grip the only thing keeping her from getting the friction and the depth she wants. 

_ She usually doesn’t have a problem demanding what she wants from me- but then again, it’s been two years and they’ve both changed. Makes sense the type of their fights would change too. _

And those changes are ones he definitely appreciates when she slides her hands off the wall and slides them down the inside of his pants still loose from earlier, and just grips his dick in her hands. They’re warm but small and he can’t help the flex of his hips or the way he starts slamming his fingers inside her. Her hands are insistent, sliding up and down, tightening at the head and circling the tip before coming down, hand creeping to play with his balls. 

Really not sure how she knows to grip him tight, and squeeze just right there with the thrust of his hips. She shudders when he spreads his fingers at every plunge in, slowly sliding them out only to slam as deep as they can go, to the base of his fingers, palm grinding into her clit. The harsh pants against his ear are mingled with chants of his name, his actual Goddamn name, and he’d rather be inside of her, but he likes her like this, a stark change from the polite, by the book marine Captain tasked with hunting him down. 

Sharp nips at his jawline and a loud groan have a shiver running down his spine as he feels the heat low in his stomach. She’s frantic, hips thrusting as she tries to break his hold and really, e knows he’s an asshole because it just pleases him a little,  _ okay a lot,  _ to see her lose some semblance of control.  _ They both know there are a thousand ways she could break his hold.  _ But really, who could blame him?

_ Time might change some things but riling her up is always a favorite.  _

She’s got that look in her eyes that lets him know she’s about to snarl some insults at him, but she surprises him when she just pants out, “ _ Please, just- come on,” _ followed by her polite version of  _ “fuck me” _ . 

Blood rushing through his veins, he smirks at the wet sound his fingers make as he pulls them out of her. Soaked fingers press her forward, grip tight against her shoulder. He grunts when he feels the slick glide of her hands one last time, a quick roll of his balls in the palm of her hand before resting them against the tile wall. There’s a shiver running down her back at the contact and he wonders how cold the tile is in comparison to them. 

Taking a deep breath, he groans when she tilts her hips and pushes back, really was going to take his sweet time and enjoy this but he snaps his hips and buries himself inside her before he can even blink. He’s pretty sure they both fucking breathe a sigh of relief. _Maybe it was always going to end up like this._ _Always impatient._

They weren’t always at each other throats. They’d been friendly in Lougetown before she’d discovered who he was. They’d even joked, talked swords. He’d let her employ her at the marine base, for fucks sake. That was before he was Roronoa and the fight in the rain. 

Buried balls deep inside her, he likes the way she shudders when he grinds against her, calloused palms sliding to pull and tug at her nipples, nails dragging down her sides and stomach, settling on the sensitive skin of her thighs. He’s fucking relentless, fingers flicking her clit before trailing against where his dick’s entering her, feeling the way she stretches around him,  _ why the fuck didn’t we do this sooner?  _ It’s so much easier when you don’t have to waste time  _ talking. _ He’s much better at speaking and using his body. Words just get in his way.

The sounds filling the room are probably his favorite- his grunts mingling with her whines and moans, sharp gasps of his name as he leaves sharp stinging bites along the side of her neck, tongue tasting sweat as he sucks under her ear. Jerking her against flush against him, cheek rubbing against her his lips pressed against her, nipping at the bottom lip. Tongue skimming against the sore spot before sliding against her own. She tastes like coffee and something sweet, something he can’t put his name on but he already knows he wants more of.

He doesn’t stop each deep press against her, even when she’s twitching and pulling his hair as she pants against his mouth that she’s close.  _ Like I wouldn’t know. I am too.  _ His pace stutters when he feels the way she tenses, and it’s like she rips the orgasm out of him- he doesn’t stand a chance, just closes his eye and digs his hands into her skin like an anchor when his vision gets blurry, the rush under his skin like his skin’s too tight. 

He knows he should probably pull out but he wants to enjoy this for a moment- not just the feeling of his dick nestled tightly inside, but her pressed against him, relaxed, satisfied, and  _ sweet _ . Hissing when he pulls out and feels the cold air of the room. 

There’s no snarky comments, just the still of the night and their labored breathing. He doesn’t know how they ended up here- knows without a shadow of a doubt that she doesn’t either. 

Prepares himself for the inevitable conversation they’re going to have after this because their earlier screaming match didn’t quite cover  _ fucking your enemy _ , just a prerequisite to their usual game of cat and mouse and fight. And as much as he enjoyed the cat and mouse game, he likes their fights more- likes the full force of blades and watching her try her hardest.

The bond that festered between them since Lougetown, from the moment they’d locked eyes in the alleyway and he had seen the ghost of the girl that had set him on his path, had needed that clash of swords and brutal honesty.  _ The end result had sure as shit been favorable.  _

It had been 2 years after all, and he’s hard-pressed to admit it but he’d wondered about her. Had wondered how she was, the woman that wore the face, the opinions, of his dead best friend. Wondered where she was at, what pirates she was hunting. Wondered how she’d react when they ran into each other again. 

Time can change a lot of things, but it didn’t change everything.


	2. Where the Wild Things Are Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This fight is different though. Her focus isn’t on him, not really; she might be staring at him but it’s clinical, focusing on his movements rather than actively trying to figure out where he’s going, what he’s about to do next like she was fighting an enemy that wasn’t him, that wasn’t there. Battle challenges on site weren’t new, but he can hear the frustration singing through each parry of her blade, an echo of the anger strumming through her veins. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another contribution for Zotash Month 2020! 
> 
> this one focuses on the word prompt: STUBBORN
> 
> As always... Post-Punk Hazard and Post-Time Skip, OOC-goodness.
> 
> Eventually leading to smut!

**STUBBORN**

_ So wake up sleepy one  
_ _ It's time to save your world _

_ Steal dreams and give to you  
_ __ Shoplift a thought or two  
_ All children touch the sun  
_ __ Burn fingers one by one, by one…

~~~~~~~~

He really shouldn’t care about her comfort. Shouldn’t wonder if her shoulder is aching her since that bitch of a harpy took a bite out of her a week ago at Punk Hazard. When she’d left, she still hadn’t had it looked at- white bandage covered in splotches of red, before soaking through, a deep dark red that he was pretty fucking sure was going to start staining the ridiculous pink of her usual marine cloak. 

He really shouldn’t care about it considering she hasn’t said a fucking word as he’s gripped it between his hand, grip harsh and bruising but the woman was out for  _ blood _ , starting a fight with him the moment she’d laid eyes on him in the town square. Her back might be against the wall but the woman was stubborn. Wouldn’t back down even if her life depended on it. If she had been facing off against any other pirate or swordsman,  _ it would be.  _

Didn’t fucking matter to her that they were on a  _ pirate island  _ before she was running after him, battle challenge ringing in the air, “Roronoa Zoro, you will fight me seriously or else!”

_ Shouldn’t have fuckin’ told her I owed her a fight.  _ Sword nerd was here to collect,  _ angry _ , each thrust of Shigure sharp, precise, and violent. She looked unhinged as she threw her weight into blocking each slash of his sword, and he’s fucking confused because he’s used to fighting the sword nerd, yeah, but she’s never riled up like quite like this. 

If he’s honest with himself, he’s a little fucking  _ pissed _ because that was his job, to get her angry to the point of spitting fire, get under her skin, make her squirm. It was fair - just a hint of what he felt every time he saw her face, heard her talk. The Captain was easy to rile up, and he liked it better when she was serious, putting her all into it.

This fight is different though. Her focus isn’t on him, not really; she might be staring at him but it’s clinical, focusing on his movements rather than actively trying to figure out where he’s going, what he’s about to do next like she was fighting an enemy that wasn’t him, that wasn’t there. Battle challenges on site weren’t new, but he can hear the frustration singing through each parry of her blade, an echo of the anger strumming through her veins. 

But it was infectious. So he doesn’t end it short like he normally does, just keeps entertaining her as he takes each slash and thrust of her blade. It’s raining and somehow they’re in the warehouse district. She isn’t tired yet, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Already has a barrel of sake waiting for him back on the ship, 

They’re soaked, and the extra weight of the wet cloth is just another thing to fight through. Doesn’t bother him but the extra strain of the wet fabric of her thick cloak has her face scrunching slightly, boots sinking into the mud as she struggles to throw another elbow to his face. 

“Damn it, Roronoa, just let me  _ go- _ ” And fuck if the woman doesn’t look good enough to eat, all sweaty skin and harsh breaths that warm side of his face. 

Snorts, and struggles to keep her arms pinned to the side, “I don’t fuckin’ think so Glasses. You’re on a fuckin’ warpath. Think I’m just going to let you go just to have you go back to hitting me?”

“Is the world-famous Roronoa Zoro scared of getting hit in his face? Aw, how cute-”

“Are you fucking kidding me, woman? Be glad this defeat isn’t like the others. Ending with your sword ten feet away from you.” Rage is flickering through her eyes, the only heads up he gets before he feels the impact of the back of her head against his nose, and there’s  _ so much goddamn blood _ , the woman had managed to get a direct hit.  _ Damn it, that fucking stings. _

Zoro’s not fucking sure which one it is. Glasses is so riled up, she doesn’t stop after she hits him with her head. Just keeps throwing her head back, wants to make an impact regardless of the pain and he knows it’s got to hurt. Not that she complains, wouldn’t even think about saying anything because this is a fight, and she’s in it to win it, no matter how obviously the odds are against her.

Whatever tight grip he had is lost now. Watches as she squirms out of the hold and out from in front of him, hooking a foot around his ankle, and fuck, he’s on the ground not even a second later.  _ Someone’s been working on their footwork. Fucking told her it’d make a world of difference.  _

From this angle, he doesn’t have a good view of her face; just sees pale skin, eyes hidden behind long inky strands of hair, and the edge of her blood-red glasses. Realy fucking hates that. Lips pressed tight, she isn’t shaking, doesn’t lose the cavalier attitude of _ fuck everyone _ even when she lands on top of him, a mess of writhing limbs and sputtering rage, trying to yell as she struggles to get up. He hates that he can’t see her eyes, loses the advantage of seeing her tells but he refuses to use haki, kind of likes the surprise of what she’s about to do next. 

The angrier she gets, the funnier it is as she struggles to get up. She’s as klutzy as ever, ungraceful as her arms and legs flail.  _ How the fuck has she not accidentally killed herself with her sword?  _ Her lack of coordination makes her dangerous, almost managing to crush his windpipe with an elbow, or the other elbow, this time to his nose before wedges a leg between her own and filliping her onto her back. 

“Goddamn it, Roronoa Zoro! Why won’t you just  _ fight me _ !” Her voice is shrill, and she starts flailing again, hair flying everywhere, smacking him in the face. This was expected, but annoying. Just lets her kick her feet out and tire herself out, but it’s taking so  _ long _ . He needs a drink, needs her to calm the fuck down so he can let her go, be on his merry little way.

He feels a brush of her knee against his dick but luckily moves in time. _ Fucking dirty move, Marine. _ Growing under his breath, he enjoys the way she glares at him as he hunches over her, knees pinning her legs shut as they rest on each side of her, “I wouldn’t try that again, Captain.”

“What the Hell are you trying to do right now?” He’s fucking confused- doesn’t even mean to say it out loud, but won’t take it back. Raking an eye over her, he spots her discard cloak- jet black and a stark contrast to her usual pink, missing the Marine insignia and rank. She doesn’t look like a Marine, not like this - all flushed and sweaty, panting and screaming  _ actual cuss words. Did this woman just call me an asshole? _

Shouldn’t be surprised that even pinned beneath him, sword nerd has the balls to yell at him, some garbled mess of her typical insults, sprinkled with words he’d never thought the polite and proud woman would ever say. Doesn’t matter that he could best her, easily, in a sword fight or kill her with his own bare hands- she’d die before she ever backed down. 

Fighting hadn’t calmed her down, either with swords or fists. Then again, if she sought him out, she wasn’t looking for anything else. Zoro doesn’t do talking. It’s a known fact. He’d be curious as to why she sought him out - but it makes sense. Dodging her fists is getting annoying but at least she’s stopping screaming at him- her voice could get fucking shrill, his ears already ringing. She’s still trying to punch him, but he just catches her wrists in his hands, eye taking her in. He likes the way she tries to fight her way from under him, how she wiggles and twists and turns. He really fucking shouldn’t- but she looks good like that, with her hair all over the place, falling out from that half bun she was sporting earlier, black button-up torn from his swords, biting her lip when she concentrates on trying to shift him off of her, pry his hands from her wrists.

As riled up as she was earlier, he’s surprised that she hadn’t managed to get into a fight with the first pirate she saw when she docked. her signature cloak is missing, and without the marine insignia and rank prominently displayed, she doesn't look like a marine. And that does something to him because if she’s not docked as a Marine, that means she’s docked as a civilian; wasn’t a Captain right now, but just a  _ woman _ . Just a woman who was hell-bent on clashing swords and punching his face.

He wonders how her shoulders doing when she winces after trying to pull her writs out from his grip.  _ Her fucking fault for pulling so hard _ , “Can I get up now, or are you gonna make me embarrass you again?” 

That gets a rise out of her, and he appreciates the way her eyes focus on his own face, the way her nose scrunches up for a second and her brow furrows as she glares, “Just get up, Roronoa. If you’re not going to fight me, then let me up and quit wasting my time.”

Eye twitching in annoyance, he grinds his teeth, “Wasting your time? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” She’s got the balls to look offended and Zoro can already feel his blood pressure rising, anger simmering under the surface that she has the balls to look offended like she hasn’t just spent however fucking long fighting and chasing him through the island for no reason. 

“Just get off me,” and she sounds tired and hollow. She’d known the outcome from the start, shouldn’t have expected anything different. This is how it always goes. Can’t pinpoint exactly when it became a routine, had always been this way since the beginning. They’re at the same port, she seeks him out, they exchange their usual insults, she tells him to fight her and he’s under arrest, maybe there’s a quick fight, maybe just more words exchanged but he always flees and she always gives chase. 

But tonight it was different. He wasn’t so interested in fleeing again, not right now, not when she was finally fucking calm underneath him, no langely limbs to dodge, no shitty comments being thrown his way. “Feelin’ shy all of a sudden?” 

The groan he gets in response makes the heat sizzle under his skin, makes his blood start to rush when it’s paired with the shake of her head as he finally sees her eyes again, the way they zero in on his hands wrapped around her wrists, and finally,  _ fucking finally _ , she’s focused on him. 

Breathing heavily, he notes that her chest is heaving, the top buttons of her shirt missing, gaping open and he can see pale creamy skin peeking. Doesn’t need to mention it - he’s finally got her to stop screaming, and the streets are quiet now. It’s eerie without her voice filling the silence; her rage filling in the cracks of the still night. 

She‘s calmer now, can see the way her body goes limp beneath his as her head tilts back. That chaotic, angry energy is still there; simmering beneath her blood, and something in him can’t help but react to it, to the way she bites her lip and wiggles once, twice, to see if she can break his hold, get out from underneath him.

He’s an unmovable force, steady as a rock as he stays crouched over her, and like this, the woman looks  _ tiny _ , a small body lying underneath his own, something fragile. 

He snorts. The woman is anything but fragile; had been trading blows with him for a few hours.  _ It was daylight when we started fighting, now it’s evening. How long were we fighting?  _ Her stamina he attributes to her stubborn pride, her refusal to give him a completely easy win,  _ But I could have ended the fight hours ago.  _

“Why do you care anyway? You won. Just let me up.” The dead tone in her voice is what does it for him- what makes him shift his head down to peer at her, forcing her to look him in the eye by grasping her jaw and jerking her head forward, “No.”

The defiant snap of her head, and he can’t fucking help himself. Can see that she’s about to rage, about to struggle, about to fight- again. And he’s sick of fighting her.  _ It isn’t going to end the way you want it to. Quit being stubborn, quit thinking I just want to hurt you. _

The way she’s gasping his name as her hands grasp the cloth of his shirt jerks him forward, and the awkward angle of their kiss- he’s still fucking hunched over- should distract him from how she tastes- like wintergreen and tea but it  _ doesn’t _ , just make him more focused on straightening his body out over hers, presses himself against her and lets him feel him, every inch of him. Wild how soft she is in comparison to him, how  _ small _ , how pale, so different from him. 

She tastes good but smells even better- like sweat, steel, and the strong scent of cloves,  _ she’s recently cleaned her swords _ . The reminder that she was as dedicated to her blades as he was made his blood boil, his skin start to tingle because everywhere she touched, everywhere he was pressed against her, was sensitive to the touch, even though the clothes. Fighting was for him better than any booze, any seductive glances thrown his way. 

The Marine woman was underneath him, curious how long she’d be pliant and sweet beneath him, all tired and calm. Fucking surprised when she just huffs, voice resigned and  _ tired _ , “Roronoa, want to go to the bar?

Had expected her to start hitting him again, wants to enjoy the moment before she decides it’s time to end it before it even begins.

“What took you so long to offer?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trash at plot but it's gonna end in banging, in case anyone was wondering.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t forget to join the cult. We are fuckin’ rad!  
> [Zotash Discord - Join The Cult](https://discord.gg/tSwZVc)


End file.
